


i have to go now

by ScreamingYearly



Series: that's the way it goes somedays [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Briefly Mentioned Clay | Dream, Briefly Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Briefly Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Isolation, Reminiscing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingYearly/pseuds/ScreamingYearly
Summary: darling don't be angry---Tommy remembers, Tommy thinks and...Tommy falls.---DISCLAIMER: suicide is not the answer! there's much better options than suicide and this fic is not meant to encourage it. if you feel like you might want to commit suicide or are harming yourself, please seek help and remember you are loved and cared for. if you are currently having a crisis or this fic causes one, please drop reading it immediately and call a crisis hotline.
Series: that's the way it goes somedays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151510
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	i have to go now

**Author's Note:**

> ever since the lava scene this ones... been stuck in my head. please read at your own discretion and mind the tags.

The first few days in exile had been... fine.

Really, they had been! Sure, Dream had come every day, eventually getting Tommy to take his armor off and then blow all of his shit up. The way that green bastard would show up and the blonde just knew there’d be a gut punching sense of dread. Watching the man approach him and practically order him to take off the armor he’d worked for only the day prior, strip him of all of his belongings, but never touch anything that wasn’t directly on Tommy’s person.

One time, Tommy thought he could outsmart that man but Dream always figured it out. He never missed anything that Tommy wanted to hide. Dream said he was helping, that Tommy couldn’t trust any of the gifts he got from others. At some point Tommy had started believing him. He no longer opened the chests left by others and eventually, he stopped getting things at all.

Part of him knew what Dream was doing. Tommy knew he was trying to isolate the boy from anything positive, anything to cling to. He didn’t know why but he knew that he was playing right into Dream’s hand. And at this point? He didn’t care. Now he was just trying to live and stay alive.

The worst part was how lonely he was, how everything he looked up all he saw was either the wool of his tent or the slowly forming snow piles in the distance. He remembered weeks ago how it had only been grass, that there had still been some semblance of warmth. Now it was just cold. So cold, and so, so alone.

He had thought long before now that could manage like this. That he could eventually make a life out here, and one day he’d be able to go back to his home and to his friends. If they hadn’t forgotten him by then they might even be happy to see him! But… Somewhere deep down, he knew this wasn’t true. Tommy knew that no one was going to care if one day he disappeared.

Not even Tubbo.

It almost made him wish for Pogtopia back. At least then he had some routine, he had a balance even if it had been unsteady. Now he had no balance, no where to stand but old broken memories of places he wished to be. Pogtopia had been a shithole the day it was formed but at least he had been able to distract himself then.

But even there, in that damp, cold,  _ ravine _ he was somehow happier than he was here. He wasn’t alone then. The cogs turned in his brain as he tried to remember everything that had happened in that ravine. The bonding, the crazy maniacal speeches from Wilbur, the fighting and even some of the fun.

Most of all he remembered the hope. Pogtopia had been nothing but gloom since the beginning but there had always been just a little spark of hope there. Whether that was him or that was Wilbur or Tubbo or Techno, Tommy wasn’t really sure but what Tommy did know now was that there wasn’t any hope. Not in this place.

There was no hope here.

He wasn’t tempted to just step off the tallest point of Logsteadshire and hope he just fucking  _ died _ then. Not back in Pogtopia. He’d never felt like that.

Or maybe he had, but he was so distracted that these feelings just never bubbled to the surface. Maybe these feelings had been ones he long harbored and just had not been able to focus on. Now that he was here, alone, he was able to think clearly and without the musk that permeated the air of Pogtopia or the ash that swept through the wind during November 16th.

There was some sense to that, he had been so distracted by trying to get back up that he had yet to let himself fall down…

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he longed to fall. He longed that one time on the blackstone bridge early December. He had longed to fall times after that, and even times in Logsteadshire. There had been so many times where he could have taken the chance but he was tugged back by the scruff of his jacket and told “No, it’s not your time to go yet,” by a green hoodied man. It was always Dream who pulled him back from the edge and he never knew why. Why was Dream keeping him alive?

Tommy had been exiled! That’s what Dream wanted in the end, wasn’t it!? Hooray! He got his victory now why couldn’t he just let Tommy slip away how he wanted to? Or did he want that victory too. The one who not only muzzled the loud-mouth TommyInnit but finally broke him and discarded him once and for all.

What a fucking title…

It made his wrists ache, long healed scars from months ago burning. New ones wrapped in bandages underneath his long sleeves and coat. He almost itched to make more but he had remembered the shocked look on Ghostbur’s face when he had found Tommy, practically bleeding out in the dirt and just… The scars that littered his arms.

He always used them as a way to cope, to have some sort of control over something.

The cuts weren’t working anymore.

Closing his eyes as he shifted in bed, he looked around. He didn’t know for what, maybe any indication that anyone was there. That anyone even still cared for him, though he knew that no one did. Even Dream had stopped visiting as much. Which was something Tommy was thankful for in the beginning but it only made him more lonely.

As he sat, and watched the light dance in front of his eyes, his thoughts drifted back to that day on the blackstone bridge.

Tommy remembered just how hot it had been, just how enticing the lava had been. He could just… Jump in and he’d be gone. All of his belongings burned and nothing left to find. In the fraction of a minute, he been alone, he’d slowly edged his toes over the edge. Testing the waters to see how long it’d take before he’d fall. He wondered how far he could push it before the inevitable happened, before he just fell in and fucking died.

He wanted it to happen. Tommy was just so fucking tired.

But as always, Dream came along and ruined it. Had muttered something about not being his time to die and Tommy hadn’t been able to quip back, only stating something he once found to be fact.

It wasn’t fact anymore.

That mere thought forced Tommy out of bed. Grabbing one of spare books and quills that was lying around the little shack that Ghostbur had built. He began writing. In the book detailed his thoughts, feelings and everything that lead up to this moment. The good, the bad and the worst. He wrote how he didn’t want anyone to blame themselves, as this was his choice no matter how much of a cause they may have been.

Tommy was just tired. With an air of finality about him, he laid the book in a chest near the portal that Dream had crafted that made it easier for others to visit. No one used it anymore, it sounded almost defunct but he knew if anyone were to come after the message popped up that’s where they would go.

With every set, Tommy went back into the shack for one last time. He took in the sights of Logsteadshire and found himself grateful for the ghost of his older brother. Reaching into a cabinet, he pulled out a trinket he had not used in weeks. A shimmering compass with ‘Your Tubbo’ etched into the side. Tears filled his eyes for the first time in a while as he looked down at it. Rubbing his thumb across the glass, he looked at the steady point towards the lodestone it was attached to. Looking at the one now placed in his home, that he knew led to a compass similar to his, he picked it up. Not with a tool or anything but with his bare hands so that the magic cast to lock it with the compass would not be broken. With tears slowly dripping from his cheeks, he put the compass in his coat’s pocket and began walking.

It was almost peaceful for what he was about to do… No. It was peaceful. There was some odd triumph in his last moments as he walked through the nearby forest, away from the Dream SMP, away from L’Manburg, and even away from Technoblade’s retirement home. He felt like he was okay with this… This final symphony of his, even if it was a lonely and cold one.

So as he reached the top of the hill, he took in a deep breath of air. Placing the compass and lodestone on the ground. He turned and looked at the beauty around him. The night sky, clear and with stars shimmering above him.

He’d always loved stars.

Picking up his communicator one last time, he typed out a message with a rusty keyboard to the world chat.

<TommyInnit> goodbye

And with a step back… He was falling.

The first thing he felt in a while as he felt the cold air whip around him was…

Free.

  
  
  
  
  


TommyInnit fell from a high place.


End file.
